


Drawn Lines

by ros3bud009



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Biting, But it doesn't happen, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pon Farr Influenced, References to Interface, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: While no prude and unconcerned for the smut they may choose to read in their downtime, there were lines to be drawn, and smut featuring interfacing with the enemy was where Megatron drew it. Yet those stories – if they could be called that – only grew that much more popular, regardless of how badly written and trope ridden they were.Trapped in a cave with an Autobot while one of them was in heat, leaving no choice but to have filthy passionate interface together, was just one of the tropes they loved.It was trashy.But.----------------------------Inspired by More Than Meets The Pod
Relationships: Cliffjumper/Megatron
Comments: 13
Kudos: 73





	Drawn Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back at it again with more Megatron/Cliffjumper because the folks at More Than Meets The Pod have my fucking number
> 
> Also because the virus scare means I did nothing at work so I just wrote the dumbest silliest shit on my phone, so sue me
> 
> But also yeah, to be 100% transparent, interfacing DOES NOT happen in this fic. For reasons. Wink.

Megatron was quite sure he had read this exact scenario dozens of times amongst the thousands of confiscated datapads and text files shared among his soldiers. While no prude and unconcerned for the smut they may choose to read in their downtime, there were lines to be drawn, and smut featuring interfacing with the enemy was where Megatron drew it. Yet those stories – if they could be called that – only grew that much more popular, regardless of how badly written and trope ridden they were.

Trapped in a cave with an Autobot while one of them was in heat, leaving no choice but to have filthy passionate interface together, was just one of the tropes they loved.

It was trashy.

But.

Megatron could admit he saw the appeal as he stood there, staring at the red minibot crackling with charge, the both of them trapped with only each other for company and living out the impossible fantasy of his horny soldiers.

“Cliffjumper, isn't it?”

The minibot bared his teeth in something not unlike the sort of snarl Megatron would expect to see on a dinobot.

“Just get it over with, Buckethead,” he snapped, optics glancing down at the fusion cannon strapped to Megatron's arm and then back up.

“Eager for deactivation?”

“Nah, but I’d rather it happen before you smelt me alive with all the hot air coming out of your big mouth.”

Megatron should have just gone ahead and gotten the deed done. It's what he would have expected of his own soldiers.

But the way Cliffjumper's plating shuffled and bright snaps of electricity arched between them really was appealing.

And really, who would know?

Who among his army could tell Lord Megatron no?

“Who said I wanted to deactivate you at all?”

“What else would you do? Force me to do it myself by running that oversized--!”

Megatron reached for the latch of his fusion cannon, the click of it loud in the small space and bringing Cliffjumper up short.

“Seems like you’re in a rather delicate state, Autobot. I thought I might offer my assistance. Consider it a show of goodwill.”

Cliffjumper considered him, but only with suspicion. And fairly so. Blasting the fool once everything was said and done wasn’t off the table.

But when the fusion cannon dropped to the ground with a thud, the Autobot stared at it before finally meeting Megatron's gaze. His optics burned bright, as sure a sign as any of his heat, of the programming that must have been swamping his processer, demanding he follow through on his mating protocols.

And Megatron knew he was as fine a candidate as one could hope to catch for a mate.

Oh how he would make that minibot moan—

“Fragging _finally_ ,” Cliffjumper breathed as his lips split his face in a wide, manic grin that would put a certain traitorous Second’s to shame. “I've been waiting all week for an excuse to rip someone's throat out.”

There was less than a second after that in which Megatron's processer chugged with recalling that while most mechs released their charge through interface, like the reasonable mechs they were, some rare few preferred to fight.

Given the remainder of that second, he might have thought, 'Oh no.’

But Cliffjumper's weight slammed into his chest and toppled him backwards before he had the chance. Small digits found their way into the gaps of Megatron’s armor, digging into the cables and tubes that lay beneath to cling to Megatron’s frame as it hit the floor in a cacophony. Megatron hissed, but as he reached up to pull the little fiend away from his delicate innards, Cliffjumper released him long enough to punch him square in the face, _hard_.

What followed quickly became a blur. Megatron attempting to shove Cliffjumper off, Cliffjumper clinging on with all of his overcharged strength, nearly ripping away Megatron’s plating, Megatron rolling them to slam Cliffjumper's helm back against the rock floor until his grip finally loosened, Cliffjumper leaning up to _bite down on Megatron's nose_—

At every step that Megatron thought he had disentangled himself from the little monster, Cliffjumper was back again, kicking and punching and clawing and _biting,_ so much fragging _biting_.

And all the while, everywhere their plating ground and scraped together, Megatron was zapped by Cliffjumper’s sky-high charge. The tingle just taunted Megatron with what could have been, were Cliffjumper not kneeing him hard in the hip joint and attempting to rip his shoulder from his torso.

Megatron couldn't rightly say that many mechs had ever scared him before. Certainly not any minibots.

But when Cliffjumper kicked the fusion cannon away from Megatron's desperately outstretched servo while _gnawing_ on his _neck_ like a savage beast, clearly eager to follow through on his initial threat with his _teeth_ , Megatron did briefly wonder if this was how he'd go.

Mauled by a minibot in heat.

Something in Megatron's neck finally gave way with a sickening snap and Cliffjumper’s frame crackled with charge.

And then finally.

Finally.

Cliffjumper's teeth released and he pushed himself up from Megatron's chest, optics warm and dim as he panted, and were it not for the energon dripping down his chin and the throbbing in Megatron's neck, he might have almost believed Cliffjumper had overloaded.

Honestly, maybe he had.

“Frag, I really needed that,” Cliffjumper said, voice roughened but not to that animalistic degree of before. He licked his lips and Megatron couldn't rightly say if it was the energon loss or the rattling around of his processer that had him double-checking his memory banks to be sure they hadn’t interfaced.

One of the two had to be blamed for the fact that Megatron's frame wasn't wholly opposed to the idea, even as energon from the punctures in his nose rolled down his face to join the small puddle by his neck wound.

Fortunately, before Megatron had to examine that thought, the wall behind them was blasted into gravel, the cavern suddenly awash with the noise of battle outside. Cliffjumper was snatched up by a rather harried Optimus, and the Autobot leader has the indignity to look apologetic when he locked optics with Megatron.

“He wasn't supposed to follow us to this fight given his state.”

“You need to learn to keep your beasts on tighter leashes then.”

Where before Cliffjumper had been wound tight, he looked rather content post-mauling, happy to be held by his leader. Domesticated where he had been feral not a minute before.

However, his optics didn't leave Megatron.

“Will you be retreating?”

“Don't look so glum about it, Prime. If you'll take that monstrous scraplet of yours with you, yes.”

With a nod, Optimus turned, taking Cliffjumper with him. The minibot twisted his neck to look over Optimus’s shoulder at Megatron, and he’d swear there was something perversely dreamy in the way he looked at Megatron, laid out on a cave floor slick with his own energon, dented and defeated.

He should have known better than to cross his own clearly drawn line.


End file.
